


Jaskier versus wild animals

by sparrow30



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Jaskier is an idiot, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, and Geralt loves him for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28395870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow30/pseuds/sparrow30
Summary: “Geralt look! It’s a cat!” Jaskier exclaimed excitedly, walking toward the animal with his hand outstretched in front of him. “Oh hello there, cute one. Aren’t you a handsome thing?”“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, his grip loosening on his sword as he noted the distinctive markings around the animal’s eyes and nose. Not any real threat but- “It’ll likely not take kindly to being approached like that.”“Nonsense,” Jaskier replied with a dismissive wave back toward Geralt, one hand still held out in front of him. “You’re as friendly as friendly can be, aren’t you little- AAAH!”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 142
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge: Secret Santa (TWFFSS20)





	Jaskier versus wild animals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sternenstaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/gifts).



> This is my contribution for The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge: Secret Santa 2020, as a gift for Sternenstaub who provided this adorable picture as reference! Merry Christmas Stern, I hope you enjoy!

“And as the wind whipped through the trees, the white wolf he howled at...his knees?” Jaskier strummed a discordant note on his lute, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Gods above, the words just aren’t coming for me today, are they?”

Geralt gave a noncommittal hum from his position astride Roach, taking great pains to keep his eyes on the crest of the hill just in front of them and not on Jaskier walking next to him. 

Unfortunately, as was seemingly always the case, Jaskier took no heed whatsoever and barreled onwards regardless.

“Geralt, say Geralt, what rhymes with trees?” he continued, completely unperturbed by the lack of response. “Knees, bees, sleeves...no none of those...oh! How about-” 

For the first time in what felt like hours, Jaskier fell abruptly silent. It was a surprising enough turn of events that Geralt pulled Roach up to a halt, turning to see what had caught the bard’s attention.

Jaskier too had stopped walking, staring mouth agape at the wide expanse of wildflowers that had just peeked into view on the other side of the hill. “Oh, Melitele, isn’t that a sight,” he breathed, entirely captivated. 

The sinking sun just caught the shine of the bard’s eyes, highlighting their brilliant blue, and Geralt felt an all-too familiar twinge in his chest, the same one that’d been keeping him up at night more and more of late.

“It’s just some flowers,” Geralt grunted, firmly biting his tongue against admitting that a far more breathtaking sight was already standing right next to him. 

Jaskier tore his gaze away from the view to roll his eyes at Geralt. “You, my dear Witcher, really do need to learn to embrace the beauty that this world has to offer.” He gave a devious grin, one that had foreshadowed all manner of inconveniences for Geralt in the past, and swung his lute around onto his back. “Race you down there!” He cried, taking off at a run with a gleeful cackle.

Geralt swore, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth despite himself, and kicked Roach forward into a canter. Jaskier only had a whisper of a head start, and Geralt quickly overtook him, pulling Roach up at the bottom of the hill with a satisfied laugh that nobody but himself would hear.

“No fair, you cheated!” Jaskier wheezed when he finally caught up minutes later.

Geralt raised a dubious eyebrow. “How pray tell did you come to that conclusion?” 

“You had Roach,” Jaskier huffed, briskly straightening the collar and cuffs of his doublet. “Clearly you had an unfair advantage.”

Geralt couldn’t help but bark out a sharp laugh at that. “You knew that was the case when you issued your challenge, you cannot blame your poor foresight on me.”

“But who else should I blame it on?” Jaskier replied with a wry smile. “Surely it can’t possibly be  _ my _ fault.” 

Geralt was saved from having to respond to such obvious nonsense by a sudden rustle in the flowers next to them. His hand instinctively went for the steel sword on his back, but before he could draw it a furry head popped out from amongst the wildflowers, a few loose daisies balanced precariously between its ears.

“Geralt look! It’s a cat!” Jaskier exclaimed excitedly, walking toward the animal with his hand outstretched in front of him. “Oh hello there, cute one. Aren’t you a handsome thing?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, his grip loosening on his sword as he noted the distinctive markings around the animal’s eyes and nose. Not any real threat but- “It’ll likely not take kindly to being approached like that.”

“Nonsense,” Jaskier replied with a dismissive wave back toward Geralt, one hand still held out in front of him. “You’re as friendly as friendly can be, aren’t you little- AAAH!”

Geralt buried his face in his hands as Jaskier sharply recoiled, a very angry racoon dangling from his hand by a set of  _ very _ pointed teeth.

“Geralt! Geralt help!” Jaskier shouted, voice jumping an octave in panic as he shook his hand wildly to try and dislodge the creature, which was still determinedly hanging on. “Draw your silver, I’m being attacked by a vicious monster!”

“It’s not a monster,” Geralt replied calmly, doing his best not to laugh as Jaskier finally managed to make the racoon unlatch. The poor animal dropped to the ground, taking a moment to give Jaskier a truly enraged hiss before scurrying back into the depths of the field in a flash of grey and black. “You just scared it, that’s all.”

“I’m  _ bleeding _ !” Jaskier held his hand up by the wrist, and sure enough Geralt could see a neat line of pinpricks across the back of his hand. “The little hellion drew  _ blood _ !” 

“Serves you right for invading its space like that,” Geralt replied without an ounce of sympathy as he swung off Roach and started to rummage in his saddle packs. “Stop complaining and come over here, I’ve got some salve that’ll help with the sting.”

“Is this how I die?” Jaskier asked forlornly as he traipsed back over to Geralt, his injured hand cradled protectively against his chest. “Slain by a wretched feral beast in the middle of nowhere?”

“You’re not going to die,” Geralt replied archly, waving at Jaskier to take a seat on a nearby tree stump. 

“I suppose there are worse places to go,” Jaskier continued as he slumped onto the tree stump, holding his hand out with exaggerated weariness “than in a field as beautiful as this.” 

Geralt couldn’t help but snort at the bard’s theatrics, unscrewing the lid on a tin of salve he’d bought a few towns back with the promise that it was more human-safe than his usual Witcher tonics. “It’s barely even a scratch. I’ll wager you won’t even feel it by nightfall.” 

Jaskier flung his free hand over his eyes dramatically, swooning backwards so that Geralt had to quickly reach out to grab the hand he wanted to work on. “Make sure the songs they write about me remember my beauty, won’t you Geralt?”

Geralt wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he fell back on one of his tried and true hmms. Gently cradling Jaskier’s hand in his own, he dipped a finger into the salve and got to work spreading the slightly viscous gel over the row of puncture marks. The rough calluses of his fingertips caught against the soft skin of the back of Jaskier’s hand, and he was rewarded by the soft hitching of Jaskier’s breath in response.

They’d been doing this silent dance for a while now, the tacit back and forth of looks and touches that flirted right along the edge of casual friendship. Geralt might not be particularly well versed in matters of the heart but even he wasn’t blind enough not to see that what he and Jaskier had between them went beyond mere companionship. 

That didn’t mean he was ever going to act on it, of course, but at least he knew that they both knew it was there.

For a few minutes there was silence between them as Geralt forced himself to focus on the task in front of him, and not some hypothetical might-be. He finished by wrapping a bandage around Jaskier’s hand and tying it off at the wrist. In truth the bard didn’t really need one, but it wasn’t worth the debate for the price of one measly bandage roll.

“There, now you have something to show off to all the fluttering maidens at the next tavern,” Geralt said as he stood up and brushed the dust from the road off his breeches, finding he couldn’t quite make eye contact as he spoke.

“I shall have to come up with an appropriately harrowing tale,” Jaskier replied as he too stood up, but from what Geralt could see out of the corner of his eye he couldn’t help thinking that the bard’s expression was far more pensive than excited.   
  
“Better than a fight to the death with a ferocious man-eating raccoon?” Geralt replied with a wry smile as he remounted Roach, trying to nudge the bard’s expression back into more familiar territory.

Jaskier continued to look as serious as ever as he stared at Geralt, flexing his bandaged hand absently by his side. “Thank you,” he finally said, and Geralt couldn’t help thinking that he was talking about far more than some healing salve and a bandage.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, not quite sure what he was acknowledging but knowing he’d give it all to Jaskier a thousand times over, if that was what he wanted.

Jaskier paused, a complicated set of emotions flickering across his face before seemingly coming to a decision. His expression relaxed into an easy smile as his posture turned supple and languid. “Maybe at that next tavern I could properly show you my appreciation,” he said with a suggestive eyebrow quirk, the very picture of flirtatious troubadour that Geralt had watched raking in coins - and admirers - across the Continent. 

Underneath all that, though, Geralt thought he saw something else. Something more raw, and much more hesitant.

“Careful, bard,” he replied, going for a casual tone that would give them both an out if needed. “Or one might actually think you serious.” 

His Witcher senses heard Jaskier’s heartbeat kick up a notch, saw the bard’s pupils contract and then blow wide as his resolve firmed, the hesitancy disappearing from the cocktail of emotions bubbling just under the surface. “What on earth made you think I wasn’t?”

Well then.

“In that case,” Geralt said slowly, mouth suddenly bone dry. “I guess we should get moving then, if we want to reach a town by sundown.”

A small smile flickered across Jaskier’s face, the delicate, genuine one that he rarely shared with anyone. It was only there for an instant before being swiftly replaced by Jaskier’s usual broad grin, but Geralt had seen it, and would cherish it nonetheless.

“You know, we’d get there a lot faster if I were able to ride pillion,” Jaskier said cheekily as he fell into step next to Geralt and Roach, and it was probably a sign of just how gone Geralt was that he even considered it for a moment.

“Don’t try your luck,” he said instead, cuffing Jaskier lightly on the shoulder and causing the bard to laugh, bright and bold and beautiful.

“I guess I’ll store that up that for later then,” Jaskier said, eyes twinkling with promise, and Geralt found himself stifling a groan as he reluctantly turned his attention back to the road.

The next town, it seemed, wouldn’t be able to come fast enough.


End file.
